The Right Cut
by d.honey
Summary: Only men of the right caliber would be part of her cause.
1. The Right Cut

She signed contentedly and turned to look at each of them thoroughly. She touched the tiara on her head thoughtfully.

"There are four c's of diamonds. Do any of you know about jewelry?" she asked abruptly. Just as quickly, she answered her own question. "Of course you do. Being who you are." She laughed girlishly, as if she had made a joke.

Carefully, she lifted the glittering crown from her head, wary of mussing her hair. Shaking her head shortly, the burgundy hair swung freely and she twirled her jeweled object between her slender index fingers.

She approached Nephrite, who struggled against his bonds, angrily and futilely. Wrenching his arms and legs against the chains locking him to the rock wall behind him, he leaned forward as much as possible to bare his teeth in hatred.

"There's 'cut.'" She reached out a slim arm to graze Nephrite's bared chest with pointed nails, painted an almost violent violet. "The right cut," she said hungrily, continuing down Nephrite's abdomen and ignoring his savage, animalistic hiss, "allows the right amount of light to shine through." She licked her lips. "The right cut, indeed."

She moved onto Kunzite. "Color." She looked him in the eyes, and he looked straight back with livid green eyes. "Most people want colorless, because more light shines through it. It looks brighter." She tilted her head, evaluating the man bold enough to challenge her directly with his gaze. "I prefer colorless myself; it's not so," she paused to think of the word, "vivid. Something that doesn't attract attention vivaciously, but subtly, with its own brilliance." She grinned. "I certainly wouldn't want something to outshine me." She patted his cheek and moved on.

"Clarity." She stopped before Jadeite. "That has to do with flaws in the diamond." She reached out a finger to stroke his cheek. His body remained completely still, staring determinedly over her shoulder. "The fewer flaws, the greater the clarity. The greater the clarity, the more shiny the diamond is!" She stepped back to look him up and down, gauging his resolute stance. His body almost trembled with the tense effort of not moving, of completely ignoring her presence; she nodded to herself in satisfaction.

She turned on her heel to face Zoisite. "And finally, carat-weight." She spoke as she strode towards him on plum-colored heels, never wavering, even on the uneven, dirt floor. "But I'm not too concerned with weight or carats today." She settled the tiara back in her hair, running her hands through the strands once.

She raised her arm up from her side, palm up, and sent energy coursing through her veins into Zoisite's body. The shock of the attack made him unable to hold back a brief scream. His body convulsed, disgustingly limp, as it absorbed the blast full force, his body having no where to go, forced against the wall he was currently attached to.

Jadeite could not ignore that; he and the others protested angrily, pulling against their bonds with a fierceness that would do them no good.

Beryl stopped.

"Today," she smiled, "I'm concerned with tolerance."

She raised her arm in the air and her wrist jerked once. Youma eased from the shadows to stand before the men.

Zoisite's head hung weakly, and Beryl cupped it gently with a hand. She leaned in, close enough to kiss him. "Be strong," she whispered sardonically.

She began her ascent up the stone steps and left the youma to play. The shitennou would be hers by midnight.

Noon, tops.

* * *

end

Theme: Four of Diamonds (#2) – theme taken from 101_Kisses themes list

Information about diamonds and the four c's was taken from the website: The Four C's of Diamonds.


	2. Post Traumatic

He deals with his ghosts.

* * *

**Title: Post-Traumatic **  
Theme: Windy Nights (#26) – theme taken from 101_Kisses themes list  
Genre: General  
Rating: PG

* * *

They swore he was borderline OCD. They laughed and made fun of him, swapping the salt and pepper shakers to see if he would switch them back.

He left them to their jokes. They knew he wasn't OCD; he knew he wasn't OCD.

He was, however, haunted.

Occasionally, he wondered if the senshi's original hair and eye color would ever return, and if he'd be able to look at Mars then. He hoped the color purple would stop making him slightly queasy, since it was apparently Endymion's horrid choice of wardrobe in the future. Sometimes, he even cringed when Minako ran her newly done nails over exposed skin in an attempt to arouse him.

He couldn't help those things that were out of his control. So, instead, every night, despite the temperature, he shut every window in the apartment. Like a ritual, he started with the kitchen, moving systematically towards his room, stopping in the others' rooms to make sure those were secure as well.

He slid the window closed and then tried to open it, testing and ensuring it had locked. Three times. _Then_ he was satisfied.

Sometimes, paranoia got the best of him, and he'd have to return to certain windows to repeat the rite. A couple times, it had even gotten him out of bed.

The one time he had left the bathroom window open – because the room had been occupied and then deemed toxic by its occupant – he had woken up in a panic, with a small, bleeding scratch on his right forearm.

He had stumbled to each window, rechecking them, muttering about how she could not have been there, that he had shut her out, that she was dead and there was no way to have seen her; that she had not stood over him, gripping his arm and murmuring with a vicious teeth-baring grin.

The others had left him alone, even when he invaded their privacy. Having Kiyoshi trip into their rooms in the middle of the night was rare, and unwanted, but it happened. They'd all had their share of nightmares, and they knew he preferred to deal with his own on his own.

And he did. By methodically shutting every window every night and ensuring that her voice did not carry on a whispery wind.

"You relinquished that body to me. No matter how many times you're reborn, you will be my follower."

October always greeted a heavy-lidded Kiyoshi. He never got much sleep during typhoon season.

* * *

end

Beryl's quote taken from Alex Glover's translations.

Separate one-shot, but listed with _The Right Cut_ for Beryl relatedness.


	3. The Beast Within

She molds him to her use.

* * *

**Title: The Beast Within**  
Theme: Blossom (#7) - theme taken from 101_kisses  
Genre: General  
Rating: PG

* * *

She watched him like the lover of a virgin, like the parent of a child finding his niche. She watched him with pride.

All he had needed was the right motivation. He needed to see how clearly the princess had him under her spell. Needed to hear words of adoration falling from his lips to the treacherous witch. Needed to watch his prince make himself completely vulnerable to the innocent-looking girl.

He had needed to feel that fear, to let the fury overcome the politician in him. He had needed to lose control.

Endymion, as Beryl knew, was best for that position.

Whether it was Endymion himself or mere loyalty and duty that made Kunzite so fierce, even Beryl wondered.

But what was important was that Endymion could and did tip Kunzite's equilibrium.

He shed his unruffled skin and cut through the peons of the Lunarian army with ease. No longer calm and composed, he was livid. Blood splattered his grey uniform, dyed his silver hair in clumps. Energy crackled around him, blood poured off of him, yells escaped him, and he ached for more. Ferocious and furious, he would do anything to save his prince.

In fact, he thrived on the violence. The last cut was never vicious enough. The last soldier never bled enough. The last victim never begged enough.

He was rash and furious in his fighting. But he was exact and precise. A deadly combination.

Kunzite's aggression grew as he drew closer and closer to his target.

Endymion, blind-sighted and in the clutches of the evil, conniving moon princess set to take Earth for her own.

Beryl watched idly as the shitennou cut through the mass, noticing when the prince began dragging the princess into the castle. Glancing at Kunzite, she thought on him fondly.

'Such a good boy.'

She stood, stretching her arms above her head.

'My turn.'

* * *

end

Separate one-shot, but listed here for Beryl relatedness


End file.
